


Testimony of Love

by Silverfern500



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bedtime story au, Beta Wanted, Episode Fix-it: 2017 Xmas Twice Upon A Time, F/M, Never had a beta reader so I'm not sure though, Slow Build, Up to suggestions, bookstore setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 03:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13755258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfern500/pseuds/Silverfern500
Summary: Bedtime story style, this is about the 12th Doctor post Testimony and pre 13. Rose is also around, traveling the universe and helping where she's needed.It's a love story, but it's also a story about memory. There's a bookshop full of old, improbable faces, a sickly child around Christmas time hearing a bed-time story, and the question of what makes a person.--"It had all started with a man. Just one. He was a very ordinary man, if you'd believe it. He was fallible, cheeky, impatient, oblivious. He was arrogant, yet kindly instead of prideful. And he was kind."





	1. And So It Began

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me here.
> 
> Also note this story sounds much better read by "Graham" on Naturalreader's text-to-speech site.  
> (Though It's got a 20min limit of reading time)

"Of course, it all started with a man."  
  
The woman began. She was old, and her skin sagged with the weight of her years. Her voice was tired, tired from a lifetime of secrets, which only emboldened the strength with which she spoke. There was a glimmer of mischief in her eye. She had probably done many things in her youth. Gone many places. She might have been blonde once, but age had taken the color from her hair. She had moles across her neck and hands, the only parts of her exposed beneath her warm jumper. Her lap covered in a cream and brown blanket to ward off the chill of the late December night. She sat in the comfy green armchair by the couch, bent over her elbows upon her knees.  
  
The room was warm, but the sort of warm that is only felt in proximity to fire. Outside the reach of its low light, lay a chill within the shadows. A clock on the wall ticked healthily away, and a large window with curtains partially pulled-to revealed lazy snowfall outside. In the middle of the room was a nondescript rug, with the green armchair upon which the old woman sat. Beside it, a medium couch of the same green color, with cushions not quite yielding, yet not so hard as to be uncomfortable. A little brunette girl lay there, listening with rapt attention. She was much too skinny for her age, and was bundled up in comforters of cream. Both chair and couch were positioned next to the fire, whose light flickered over their faces in the quiet.  
  
Atop the comforters piled on the girl, was an ultramarine blanket her grand aunt had added. It was meant to be a Weihnachten present, but she had been presented with it early on account of her illness. The girl's name was Amaryllis. She had long, ashy brown hair, and was incredibly pale. The skin around her eyes had sunken and darkened through her failing health. Her cheeks tinged with pink from fever. She coughed weakly.  
  
The blanket-gift was plush, and soft, and covered in clusters of stars the little girl did not recognize. It was pulled up snugly around her shoulders. Upon receiving it, the child's eyes had lit up. It made her grand aunt look at her with some sort of fondness. Or longing. Amaryllis had loved it. It was something new. It was a spot of jewel tone in her earth-toned world. Better yet, it gave her questions. She had thanked her grand aunt with a watery smile, and begged for one of her relation's famous fairytales to go with it. Then she settled in. And waited.  
  
"He was an ordinary man-" The woman continued, but then stopped short.  
  
Amaryllis had narrowed had her eyes at her grand aunt. "Was he only _ordinary_?" she challenged petulantly.  
  
The woman barked out a laugh, and leaned back in the chair. "Hush, flower," she tutted. "Let auntie tell the story."  
  
Amaryllis let herself sink back into the couch reluctantly. She wanted to hear the tale, after all. And to be truthful, she _was_ exhausted, trying valiantly to stay awake. Yet shortly after her grand aunt began her next sentence, Amaryllis closed her eyes and let her consciousness roam to the stories and far off worlds of which the woman spoke. The little girl used her grand aunt's voice as a tethering line in her dreams.  
  
"Now, where was I? Oh, yes..."  
  
\---  
  
It had all started with a man. Just one. He was a very ordinary man, if you'd believe it. He was fallible, cheeky, impatient, oblivious. He was arrogant, yet kindly instead of prideful. And he _was_ kind.  
  
He had the sort of kindness which only comes from enduring unbearable loss. Not the loss of family, or a friend, or even a lover. But the loss of a man who had survived much, much worse. And never wanted anyone to endure that sort of hardship. Least of all from him.  
  
The place for which this story takes place, is intangible. It's everywhere, it's everywhen. But for the sake of this story, let's say he was in a small park in London. As buses and cars passed by, and ducks quacked in the large fountain, the man stood vacant. Facing the lawn in front of him, he rubbed a hand across his face and glanced around blankly, squinting in the sunlight. He was lost, you see. Oh, he knew where he was. Could plot out his coordinates by rote. But, ah, _metaphorically speaking_ , he was lost. He was also old, and tired, with pepper hair grown a little wild. He was at the end of his time.  
  
You see... when a man has lost everything, time and time again, and has lived as well as he can, he is faced with one impossible choice. Fight his way forward and find the will to go on, or let his story end. And for this man, the choice finally seemed clear. But then we wouldn't have our story, would we?  
  
It doesn't seem right to continue without giving the man a name. He ought to have one. True, he has so many names, without a one to properly encapsulate him. Therefore he should have none. But I can't keep calling him "the man" either. So for the sake of this story, I think we'll call him..  
  
_..John._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Weihnachten is German for Christmas night/day.


	2. I Think I've Heard This One Before

"John had stumbled into the park, aching and forlorn. He had chosen his destination based on an instinctual level need for comfort. As long as London was still London, he figured, then everything would be right as rain. Undoubtedly, the hustle and bustle of the city was a balm to his wounded heart."  
  
Amaryllis' grand aunt had to catch herself from saying 'hearts'. Because an ordinary man has only one. And this is a tale of an ordinary man.  
  
\--  
  
London was always  _London_. No matter what part, or what time period. It didn't matter if mythical zeppelins roamed the sky, or if Big Ben was down for construction and didn't bong every hour. So he chose London. It was a Tuesday, he knew. Some Tuesday in late July of some early 21st century year. It was about 23°c, which he felt acutely, as he was nearly sweating in his dark coat and suit. John heaved a put-upon sigh and began to walk. He had no destination in mind, just picking up his feet and taking off in a direction at random. Thinking about how old he felt just then, how stiff his joints were, how heavy his mind was with memory. He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. Walking on, and grimacing. He had much to think on after an exhausting jaunt to 1914. After discovering Testimony, losing Bill and Nardole.... The supposed betrayal of Missy, not lessened in the least by frequency. Remembering Clara.  
  
These were, excluding Testimony, friends of his. There's as much history there as I have breath, and so we will speak no more of it. The point is, John was feeling guilty and conflicted.  
  
\--  
  
"I told you John was old, but he was more than old. He was older than gods. He was old enough to be enemies with father time, and best friends with death." The woman imparted upon her grand niece.  
  
The girl shuffled her shoulders a bit and turned to her. "You can't be friends with death", Amaryllis stated. That was absurd.  
  
Her aunt just met her eyes calmly and said,  
  
"Can't you."  
  
\--  
  
Unsurprisingly, the world does not stand still for someone who is lost or ill. Not even for him. Though there are more people than you would think who either wish time would stop, or feel it already has. Just as you can't ignore a bill or obligations into going away, things have a way of catching up to you. Farther down the path from John, there was a teenager running. Her name was Ace, and she had just escaped from school. She had long blonde hair up in a bun, and wore a black bomber jacket.  
  
Ace was busy looking behind her, and did not notice her direct collision course. Perhaps she could have corrected herself in time, had she been paying attention. Instead, she tripped on a loose shoelace and went tumbling right into John's chest. Snapped out of his reverie, he attempted to stabilize them both, hands flying up to hold onto the girl's arms. There was a moment where their eyes locked, blue to brown, and then they were falling backwards. Objectively, it was a funny sight. As Ace landed on John with an 'oomph' and an 'ow'. Their legs tangled, John's back sore, and both their dignities bruised.  
  
"Why don't you watch your surroundings!" Ace accused John, pushing herself off him. John opened his mouth, face screwed up in indignation, but she continued before he could speak. "And why are you dressed like some kind of professor? You ditchin' too? Or is some home missing one of theirs?"  
  
John did his best impression of a fish, mouth opening and closing but unable to manage more than a cross between a squawk and a grunt. Ace used her arms to rock herself back to her feet, and he followed, dutifully brushing off his front. John finally regained his wits as the girl gave another searching look behind her.  
  
"Me?" He demanded, regaining composure. Somewhat. "You're the one who ran into me!" He tacked on a muttered "and I was- I  _am_  a professor, thanks." His mind sailed right over the insult on his age.  
  
Ace looked back at him quizzically, pausing to calm down. "Yeah, alright." She conceded. To say that the man in front of her looked ragged would be an understatement. She felt a tinge of remorse and stuck her hands in her coat pockets, rocking back on her feet. John just looked around, as if he didn't comprehend how he'd gotten there and was mad about it.  
  
"You want a coffee or something?" Ace blurted out. All of a sudden his icy blue gaze was back on her. "I was just heading to my after school job, I'd make it for you free." She added when he didn't seem about to answer. She just didn't like feeling like she owed anyone anything.  
  
"Not much of a coffee drinker." John said slowly. "But I could go for some tea. Could do with the Tannins." And then he almost smiled.  
  
Ace returned his smile wryly. "Okay, dodgy old man. Tea it is." Then she began to walk away, passing him, but paused when a thought occurred to her. "Hey, you got a name?" She asked over her shoulder. "I can't just call you 'Professor'."  
  
John stilled. He wasn't sure how long he'd be.. who he was, anymore. "I'm John," he settled on.  
  
Ace nodded to herself and started off again. "I'm Dorothy, but don't get attached to it. I'm changing my name to Ace soon."  
  
She was ahead of him by a pace, eyes intent on her path. And so she didn't notice John stumble behind her or the way he watched her with suddenly wide, frantic eyes.  
  
  
\--  
  
"Was she the one John loved?" Amaryllis piped up, prodding the girl into another coughing fit.  
  
Her grand aunt paused until she was calm again. "Only to the extent in which John loved all his friends or traveling companions." The woman hedged. "But no."  
  
\--  
  
The rest of the walk to Ace's place of employment was silent. John followed her faithfully, and enjoyed the sun on his face. The light breeze kicking up through the air. It wasn't a far walk, just a couple blocks into a part of town that was a little more packed with buildings. Then she stopped, and he almost ran into her. Looking back up and over her head at the bright blue sign on the building with white block letters which spelled out "The Wayward Traveler's Bookshop."  
  
The Wayward Traveler's Bookshop and cafe was a small two-story shop nestled between a bakery and a used bookstore. It was a wonder any of them stayed in business that way. WT's philosophy was that they provided a unique sort of environment one couldn't get next door, for either coffee or books, as it was more homely and tailored to those who would spend an entire afternoon there. The hurried sort of shopper wouldn't be welcome at WT's, and could go to their next option, and the three stores mainly avoided competition this way. Even the proprietor of the Confection Connections bakery, Elton, was known to get a coffee from WT from time to time. Nobody did a mocha like Ace. And Joan who worked the counter at Bargain Bookcase loved WT's travel section. And the girls at WT loved Joan and Elton.  
  
When John and Ace entered, the little bell jingled on the door. It was a warm sound of welcome. The air was pleasant in a lightly air-conditioned way, and the change did wonders for John's head. There was an immediate call of "one minute!" from the room behind the counter as they stepped into the room, and Ace shrugged out of her jacket, placing it on the coat rack just inside. The inside of the shop had a mostly open floor plan, with a small sitting area off to the left with bookshelves surrounding it. Three chairs made the sitting area, and a coffee table in the middle. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner. Facing the door was a small desk covered in Christmas lights, and off to the right were some stairs leading up to the cafe on the second landing. The railing was also covered in lights. Ace gestured towards the stairs with an incline of her head, and was set on dragging John up for some tea immediately.  
  
"Oh!" Called Zoe, the cashier, as she stepped out of the back room just then. She was a petite young woman with black hair in a bob above her shoulders. "Ace, you're early," She narrowed her eyes at the blonde. "Did you get in trouble again?"  
  
Ace almost had the presence of mind to look sheepish. She went for defiance instead. "Oh come off it, Zo," she held out her hands. "I'm not  _that_  early."  
  
John couldn't have heard that right. He saw Zoe, and heard Ace say her name, and his mind stalled. His eyes roving back and forth between the two women. He rubbed his hand across his temple and muttered to himself in what didn't sound like English. He felt like he was going to faint.  
  
"And who's this you've brought?" Asked Zoe curiously as she noticed John. He barely heard her.  
  
\--  
  
Amaryllis' grand aunt slowed her words until she stopped, and Amaryllis gave a few heavy blinks.  
  
"Now, my child, I think that's enough for tonight." The woman smiled at the sleepy child.  
  
There was a defeated, rebellious 'awww' from the couch, but Amaryllis was clearly exhausted. Her relation picked herself up from her chair laboriously, muscles sore, and delicately picked her way over to the girl's bedside, planting a firm kiss on Amaryllis' forehead.  
  
"I'll continue after you've had your lunch, and then again after the doctor's visit." She promised. It was enough for Amaryllis, who slipped into a fitful sleep as soon as she heard her grand aunt's footsteps padding away on the carpet.  
  
The fire was nearly dead, but someone would be in to stoke it to keep its warmth going until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll edit this when I have wifi?
> 
> Hold on for the ride, I promise I'll introduce Rose soon. Bear with me. If you like. Gotta fix up some plot holes and introduce a plot and do some character healing before we get to wherever we're going here.


	3. There's Magic in a Cup of Tea.

Amaryllis woke up at a quarter past 11. Her father, David, had been moving about the house quietly in the earlier hours, attending to business while her mother was out of town. He did things like, sorting the mail, looking over his coworkers' research from his laptop. Making sure the financials were in order. Then at 9, Amaryllis' grand aunt came out to read a newspaper and have breakfast. She sat across from David, and they chatted about how wonderful it would be when everyone was in for the holiday. When the maid arrived at 10, she mopped the kitchen floor, and tidied the ashes in the fireplace before being shooed away from dusting in the living room.  
  
They all feared sending the child into yet another coughing fit. Especially when her sleep had calmed. None of them really wanted to wake her, not until she had to eat something. So at a quarter past eleven, Amaryllis' father came in to gently rouse her. It was time for lunch.  
  
"G'morning," Amaryllis yawned into the sunlit dining room. It was covered in yellow, daisy wallpaper. There was a chandelier above the small oak-wood table, and her grand aunt smiled at her fondly from the far side. Amaryllis' father stood by her shoulder, hand on her arm protectively as she leaned into him. He helped her sit down just as the maid brought out a warm bowl of porridge for her.

"How are you feeling, dear?" Her grand aunt asked kindly. Setting down the notepad and pen she had switched to recently.

Amaryllis scrunched up her nose at her food. "Dizzy." She said. She was sick of porridge. Even with little fresh blueberries on top. She looked up at the woman with beseeching eyes. "I wanna know what happens next."

Her grand aunt blinked, and then gave a slightly startled laugh. She hadn't gotten to the good part of her story yet and feared the child would be bored. Perhaps she underestimated just how boring life was to be young and stuck in bed.

She grinned at the girl. "After you eat." She promised.  
  
Her father mouthed a silent 'thank you' at his wife's relation as he moved to sit between them.

\--

Once lunch was over, and the dishes picked up, Amaryllis was settled back on the couch. This time sitting while propped up with pillows to help her lungs and alleviate the deadening of her muscles from too much rest. Her feet were propped up on a stool that her father had brought in. The child waited, with her hands in her lap. Across her legs she had pulled up the blue blanket which she prized. Amaryllis didn't want to focus on how badly she wanted to go out and play, casting longing glances at the window. She wanted to hear more of the story to occupy her mind, but she'd wait.

Her grand aunt couldn't be rushed. "Now," the woman sighed in contentment as she finally settled into her chair. "Where were we?"

Amaryllis would have been bouncing if she had the energy. "Tea!" She pronounced.

"Ah yes. Tea. John had just been led to The Wayward Traveler's Bookshop by the troublesome, headstrong Ace. Who ached of a wrong sort of familiarity. Zoe, the young woman who looked after the shop, had just come in. And then John had fainted."

Amaryllis disputed her. "He did not faint, auntie!"

"No," her grand aunt laughed. "Perhaps not quite."  
  
\--  
  
"Sir, are you alright?"  
"He's nearly fainted!"  
"Yes I can see that."  
"Ace what did you do?"  
"He was like this when I found him!"  
"Ach, get him some air."  
"Would you please get the tea?"

John started to notice the room as if wading through a deep fog. He had been vaguely aware of the women guiding him to a seat after he'd lost his mind, fussing over him. He rather felt like his insides were jumbled up with the shock.  
  
"Hello there," greeted a warm, high voice. His eyes slipped over to the slim brunette's face. That was Zoe. Hovering in front of him, clearly worried.  
  
Behind him there stood a boy who hadn't been there before. John was sure he hadn't heard the bell on the door, so this lad must have already been inside. He could have come from the backroom. Or maybe upstairs. "Is he come to?" The boy asked. And that Scottish brogue, it certainly belonged to someone he once knew. A lad named Jaime.... John squinted up at him through the sunlight streaming in. Yes, that was Jaime alright.  
  
John didn't feel any temporal anomalies. It didn't feel like the three impossible people shouldn't be there, but,  _they shouldn't be there_. Theories wound through his mind, neurons firing at double speed. Jaime couldn't remember him. Zoe, either. That was right, if they were really them.... Well, it didn't help that he couldn't see their timelines properly.  
  
Was he even in the correct universe? He didn't remember falling through any rifts. The trip to the park had been a bit bumpy, but he would have noticed something like falling out of the universe. He thought he could play it safe and wait a while, observe before he'd do something rash. Or he could do some confronting. Unsurprisingly, he was angry and was leaning towards the latter. All he had wanted was some peace. Why couldn't he find that, anywhere? "This is wrong. Completely wrong. Their timelines are all wrong, come on, think," he told himself, not noticing he was saying it aloud or the worried looks he was drawing until Ace thrust a steaming mug of earl grey tea into his hands. He'd been wringing them in his lap.  
  
"Should we call the boss?" Zoe whispered to Ace. The blonde shrugged.  
  
"I texted her," Jaime replied. And if that didn't almost make John laugh with its absurdity. Instead he glared up at them, storm clouds in his eyes. The three guiltily lifted their heads away from where they'd been huddled in front of him and whispering.

"Are you quite alright?" Zoe asked innocently as soon as Ace said,  
  
"Back with the living?"  
  
John started to nod distractedly, and then remembered he was still angry. "What." he spoke, a hint of warning in his voice, "Are you all doing here."  
  
Jaime stepped up when the two girls drew back from the man's tone. "Hey lay off, uh, John." He said. "We all work here. Don't you remember coming to WT's?"  
  
"What." John started again in exasperation. Jaime misinterpreted it as him asking where he was.  
  
"Wayward Traveler's-" he explained, but John gave a derisive shake of his head and abruptly stood up. Nearly slamming his cup of tea on the small coffee table but taking care with it at the last second.  
  
"What have you done," John almost pleaded. "Do you realize how much danger you could be posing to reality? Whose faces you're using? These people are very dear to me, if you've messed up their timelines in  _any way-"  
_

But he was interrupted by the crisp ding of a message coming through on Jaime's phone, which the lad had left on the front counter. Zoe hesitated, and then slipped off to check on it. While Ace remained beside Jaime, watching him protectively and eyeing the man she'd brought in. He didn't seem dangerous in their brief, previous interactions, she defended to herself. Just a little disoriented. He'd said he was a professor, and while she didn't get along with authority, she'd already decided to trust in him. It was time to see what that got her.

Zoe tapped at the screen and then looked up to three pairs of eyes on her. "The boss says to make sure he drinks his tea. And John... this next text is for you." She reported, bemused. John wordlessly shouldered past Jaime and went to take a look for himself.

His face looked angrier in the sunbeam he stood in as he grabbed the phone and scrolled. The field for who the message was sent from was curiously absent, and the second message was long.   
  
It read:   
"John Smith. I'm assuming. By Rassilon, don't harass them.  
( _I was not,_  he thought defensively)  
Oh yes you are.  
(He felt like growling,  _But you don't understand, they look like_ -)  
No I don't want to hear it. No, nobody is in danger. Your misguided anger is hurting these  _ordinary people_.  
(He read on, hurriedly.)  
I'd explain it myself, but I'm busy at the moment.   
( _And how can I trust you?_ )  
Yes. you can trust me (perhaps she had thought he would reply with 'can I trust you' instead). Long story.  
( _Aren't all of them?_ He asked her in his head)  
Haha! Yes I know, I'm sorry. You do have lots of those.  
-Btw, Ace makes a great cuppa. Ta!"

John wanted to throw Jaime's phone against the wall. The phrase 'Jaime's phone' made him want to fix a broken toaster just so he could break that, too. No reason. He slid the phone onto the counter with great contempt and ran both his hands across his face. "Rassilon." He moaned. "Okay." And with some out of place sense of dignity, he walked back to the others and fell into his chair. Gingerly picking up his tea and sipping at it. It  _was_  good. Better than good. He made a noise of contentment and the rest of the room stared.

"Well then!" John announced once his cup was drained. "WT's! Wonderful name. Quaint. Sort of, reminds you of sherbet fountains and childhood holidays..." He trailed off for a moment. "Which one of you came up with that?"

Zoe, who had returned to the group while John had been reading, sunk into one of the other two chairs. She looked at Jaime, who sat as well, opposite John. With his elbows rested on his knees. He looked up at Ace, who remained standing where she had been.

"It was our boss." Ace answered after no one else did.

There was another long, unnerving silence. Before Zoe and Jaime came up with excuses to get back to work, and fled to the backroom.

Ace took Jaime's chair, and John almost felt comfortable now that there were less people around. Then she snapped. "What the hell was all that?" She accused him, seemingly very cross.

"I-" John began.  
  
"And don't give me any crap," Ace warned.

John was stumped. He didn't have a good explanation, really. Not without telling Ace he had thought she was an alien wearing her face. Or a glass avatar. Or a hallucination. All of those definitely fell into the category of 'harassment'. Which he chose not to do, as the text message said. At least for now. So he didn't have an explanation. John settled on an apology.  
  
Searching her eyes, he sighed. "I am sorry. Ace." And he found that he meant it, too.

Ace was clearly not placated. But when he didn't offer anything more, she just frowned and accepted it. "Alright. Well it's not alright. But I promised you tea, and I brought you here, and we certainly don't turn away wayward travelers at WT." She looked around uncomfortably before pinning him with a determined smile. "You, sir, definitely fit the bill."

John's expression warmed, as he pointed his finger at himself in a questioning gesture. It earned him a small laugh.   
  
He guessed the description was pretty on the nose.  
  
\--  
  
Shadows began to crawl through the living room as evening came. Amaryllis' grant aunt looked at the clock on the wall, and drew the story to another close as they heard a car drive up outside. It was time for the doctor to arrive for Amaryllis' check up. The child was growing feverish again, a little too hot despite the cool cloths the maid had been bringing her up until she'd left at 1pm sharp, about an hour ago. Since it was winter, night came early. Clouds would roll in and snow would fall. Her fever would break eventually, the entire household knew. Though it didn't feel like it.  
  
This time, Amaryllis was silent when her grand aunt stopped speaking. Her mind worked up about cold stethoscopes and a stranger's eyes full of knowing concern. She didn't like doctors.  
  
By the time the routine exam was done and the studious man who went by Dr. Henderson was in the dining room speaking to her father, Amaryllis was desperate for an escape.

"Tell me about the Christmas lights." She asked her grand aunt, who had sat beside her during the doctor's visit, holding her hand.

The old woman patted the child's hand in hers and took a steadying breath. "Of course," she said. "Of course. It was July, so the Christmas lights and tree were a bit odd..."

Amaryllis settled into her side to hear the rest.

\--

The lights about the room twinkled merrily, as Ace and John sat sizing each other up.

It was John who broke the standoff. He clapped his hands together. "So," he began. "You're a little late in taking down the Christmas decorations. It's kind of nice. Always love Christmas time, it's exciting. You lot with your Christmas crackers and Christmas ham." His eyes twinkled merrily as Ace crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

"We're doing a July Christmas." She stated blandly. "Boss's idea. We do themes now and then." And she remembered Children's week and their Victorian era weekend. "I've got to add holiday drinks for the cafe, too." She added conversationally.

John looked down at his empty cup, sorely wishing for another. Then he beamed back up at her. "Wonderful! I like it. Tell me," He leaned forward, conspiratorially. "How'd this all start? This WT's and the lot of you working here. Odd bunch. Not the team I'd pick. Well, I suppose I might have done. But really, come on, tell me. There's got to be a story."

Maybe he should change his middle name and be John 'Subtle' Smith.

Ace blinked at him, surprised. Her guest really seemed to talk a lot when his mood wasn't dour. She glanced around for something to say, and then eyed his empty cup. "Just let me get you another cup," she decided, bouncing up to grab the cup from the table. John furrowed his brows, which she found almost comically adorable, but he didn't protest. "I'll be right back. I'll give you one of the new teas to try." She leveled him with a pointed look. "As long as you're here, you're going to do your part and help me with the menu." And, satisfied with her decision, Ace ran off to the stairs to brew a pot of Gingerbread Vanilla.

John stared off after her. Once she was out of view, he got up and began to browse. If he had his sonic, he could do a scan, but he'd left it in the TARDIS. He needed to make an excuse to go check on the old girl, but he couldn't leave now. WT's was too interesting to leave. Once they closed, he figured. He'd move the TARDIS closer to the shop after they closed. Then, he almost felt giddy with excitement. He loved a good mystery.  
  
\--  
  
Amaryllis was asleep. She'd missed her grand aunt vaguely explaining John's time ship, and barely stirred when the woman carefully moved away. It was not unusual for the girl to pass out not long after her doctor's visits. With the cough syrup he'd administered, she slept soundly. If she could have paracetamols, those would help aid her as well. But the young girl was deathly allergic.

Her aunt arranged Amaryllis' limbs carefully on the couch and tucked her in, kissing her forehead just as David came in. He started the fire with some mild grunting, and placed the grate in front of it for safety. It was snowing again.

The two adults shared one worried, tired glance at each other once they had done their tasks. Then they silently left the room to retire for the night. Tomorrow they'd put up decorations for Weihnachten, which Amaryllis would love. With a full night's rest, she might even be able to help decorate the tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wifi is still spotty, and the unicorns are trying to stall my work, but I'm stubborn. Next chapter should (?) be a Rose chapter. Still don't know exactly what I'm doing. I'm still trying to strangle my written Twelve into being anything close to accurate. I like my Rose better. Until next time!


	4. The Girl who Worked in a Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is a mess. Thanks for tuning in! It's time for a short check in with Rose!

Rose always thought that people ought to refrain from walking into a nearly-closed shop. The people who did that nearly always said "just one quick thing! I'll just be a 'mo!" And there Rose would be, half past close and ringing through a dozen jumpers. Well, that wasn't going to be her again. Not this time around. But back then she used to think, if another batty customer came in at closing and said "best time to shop, it's so clean and quiet!" She was going to smile conspiratorially and with biting honesty say, "That's because we've nearly closed, and everyone sane stayed home on account of the weather." For Rose wasn't the kind of girl who had time for games, she'd rather see things as they were. And though her days as a shop-girl from the Powell estates were long over, her adulthood had only strengthened her clarity and honesty. It's what she took with her into her travels, along with her curiosity and childish enthusiasm for life. Tools of the trade, she figured. Comes with the territory.  
  
Rose walked through the largest market on Kestraleve. Kestraleve had once had a problem with a species known as Homozillians, who had infiltrated them and drove them to isolation and starvation. The man known as The Doctor had helped everyone see this deception, and then he had flown away and left them to it. It was very much like him, Rose had thought when she'd first visited, ages ago. The Doctor swoops in to save the day and she's left to the more personal work of befriending and repairing. The planet and its people were now mostly rebuilt, and the markets thrived on open trade. Making it the perfect spot to go seeking a whats-it-goes-'vrrr'.  
Rose plucked a strange, pear-shaped pink fruit from a stall as she passed, and its minder simply blinked at her as she disappeared into the crowd. She was well known to them, as Ulv Heks. As she'd assisted in various negotiations and in reinstating policies to repair the damaged world. Her olive-brown vest flapped behind her as she dodged through groups of blue humanoids and side-stepped a green Vinvocci woman. Unfortunately, when she took a bite of the fruit she'd filched, she found that it did actually _taste_ like a pear as well as resemble one. She pocketed it with disappointment.

The years had been kind to Rose Marion Tyler. Age had barely had an effect on her face, and she still wore her spiky black mascara and cosmetics to enhance her features. Her blonde hair was touched up and had grown to where it spilled over her shoulders, about clavicle-length. She wore a simple vest and a torn cream jumper over light jeans, because it made her recognizable. More importantly, it was an outfit she could run in. Rose was still Rose in every way which counted.

Rose paused in an unlikely small gap between travelers, and swung her head around as she determined which path to take. To her left, more food stalls and some trinket pop-ups. Surely filled with cheap Helicon rings or bracelets or Kalthagon pendants, which acted sort of like an Earth mood ring (they were thermochromic). All things her mother would love. The idea of buying Jackie one made Rose's heart sink a little and she turned brusquely towards the right, a path that seemed darker with more sparse stalls and a couple tents. If she was in luck, there'd be a trader with parts for her time-ship. She needed a whats-it-goes-'vrrr' and a thing-which-pings(in proximity to temporal anomalies) although she figured she could describe them better than _that_. If she wanted to get off-planet in one piece, she'd need to replace the parts that'd fried in the console of her time ship.  
  
\--

Choosing at random, Rose walked down the path and cautiously entered a red tent. Inside incense burned, and it made her nose dry and sensitive. She would have yelped at the discomfort, like a wolf of her namesake. As she hastily began to exit, though, a woman who she hadn't noticed before called out to her.  
  
"Come, Protector, sit with me."

Rose jumped a little. There in the back of the room was a woman dressed in a long red cloak, blending into the tent. Her face was hidden save for her chin, which had black lines painted on it. A symbol of her trade, or heritage. Her lipstick was white. The woman sat at a small dark table with a deck of cards. Tarot, Rose surmised. This was a reader's tent, and she didn't fancy knowing what the cards said. The woman tilted her head.

"Ah, I was just leaving, sorry." Rose stuttered out.

The woman smiled wide, flashing teeth where at least two were silver. She waved a hand, and the smell in the tent dampened. Ah, it was a psychic trick on the senses. Not actual incense. Rose hesitated.

"I am Ismelda. Come, sit." A deep red-sleeved hand beckoned to the empty chair across from her. Her voice was smooth, liquid. It brooked no argument.

Well, why not? Rose figured, it would be rude to refuse now. She sat carefully. Closer to Ismelda, Rose could see a pendant containing Helicon around the woman's neck. Useless to the ungifted, but someone more psychically inclined could use it to enhance their Sight. She shifted. "So, um," Rose prompted. Great composure, she jeered at herself. Hafta work on that.

Ismelda clasped her hands in front of her on the table. "You are far from home," she told Rose. Rose fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Which one?" She couldn't help saying with a bit of sarcasm. The fact was, Rose had many 'homes', and none simultaneously. Ismelda laughed.

Ismelda slid the cards over to Rose, and indicated for her to shuffle them by lifting part of the deck and cutting it into two separate piles. When Rose picked one side up and set up a bridge, the seer spoke. "Your home. The man with many faces." Ismelda answered, with a pause, she added, "and names."

Rose switched to the other half of the cards to shuffle, huffing out a short laugh. "Yeah, sort'a on a break." Course, he didn't know that. All he knew was that she was gone. But Rose knew where The Doctor was, _who_ he was. She told herself they'd find each other when they were ready. She could explain things... see, she didn't care if he was a different man (or woman - though, not _yet_ ). Didn't know if he'd still want her along, absurdly enough, and she had things to do. Truth was, Rose thought as she combined the cards into one deck again, she was nervous. Twice she'd challenged the nature of impossibility to get to him, but he'd been the one to leave her in the first place. Now she was older. More importantly, she had people to protect. Rose slid the cards back to Ismelda.

"I do not believe that," Ismelda stated wryly. "The Bad Wolf and The Doctor. There can no longer be one without the other, but that is not what I wished to tell you."

Rose crossed her arms over her chest and smiled playfully. Interest piqued. "Go on, then."

Ismelda gracefully fanned out the deck, and selected three cards, placing them in a row before her. She tapped the first card. "The Star," She announced. "You must remember your purpose, and let the stars guide you." She noticed the skeptical look on Rose's face. "Or your intuition, if you prefer."

Rose snorted. "Yeah, don't have a problem with that one."

Ismelda tapped the second card. "The Knight of Wands. The one with so much fire, he will let it consume him if not controlled. His ambition to right the wrongs he sees will exhaust him and lead to his end."

 _As if that's new_ , Rose noted to herself.

"He will come to your aide," Ismelda added. Then she tapped the third, and final, card. Her voice lowering. "However, beware the Five of Pentacles. False promises and secrets will break their makers. There is strength in union, and in trust, as long as your intentions are made clear."

"O-kay," Rose drew out slowly. "So what do they mean? Like, all together?"

Ismelda shrugged. "It is not for me to say." She admitted. "But may I suggest you check your phone?"

In Rose's Jeans pocket, her cell phone vibrated from an incoming message. She looked down at the buzzing. "That's odd," she remarked, looking back up to Ismelda. But the woman was gone.

With Ismelda gone and no longer dampening the smell of incense, it became too overwhelming for Rose again, and she made a hasty retreat from the tent. She reavowed never to deal with psychics. Still, it was kind of fun to have attention on her. Rose smiled to herself and then did roll her eyes, taking her cell out to check her texts. It was Jaime back at the shop. Short, worried notes about some bloke in shock. Should they close? Ring medical? Rose knew exactly who their mysterious guest was. She just knew.   
Well, Rose supposed it was about time for her Doctor to fall back into her life. She felt a powerful desire to fly back and be there for him, immediately, but they'd both already waited millennia. He could wait a while longer. She replied to Jaimie, and then hesitated with her thumb over the phone's keys for a long minute. Then she tapped out a message to one "John Smith."

\--

Rose didn't work for Henrik's anymore. She had a different job now. Except that Rose was still a shop-girl, in a way. She had bought and created a bookshop which served as home base. Brought in a crew of people who could use the stability.

In the early days after opening her haven for wayward travelers, she worked it every day. Rose loved it. She created outreach programs for underprivileged youth, theme weeks to keep things fun, and donated to local schools with fundraising drives. Then one day she came in while Ace was leading storytime. The teenager was animatedly retelling "Little Red Riding Hood" and exciting the children as she imitated the big bad wolf. Rose had watched from the back until the children had dispersed, with a fond smile on her face.

Ace was surprisingly good with their younger customers, in small doses. Jaime was great with the rest. Zoe kept the books better than Rose ever had. They didn't need her hovering anymore.

Still Rose stayed a while. Not exactly worried things would go wrong and they'd be made.... She had hidden herself and her shop within her own timeline. A place her 19 year old self would never visit, and that The Doctor wouldn't dare to search. It was actually Elton Pope who had found her. The nosy boy with too much knowledge, too much curiosity, and a concrete girlfriend.

He had listened to her story, and decided to buy the bakery next door to help Rose keep an eye on things. Or perhaps to keep an eye on her. It was then that she'd decided to go elsewhere in the universe. Places that needed her help.

\--

Rose walked down the row of tents in a daze, wondering about different choices she'd made. Not really paying attention, until she stopped in front of a large green tent. It was made with a hardy canvas. A sign announcing they had "Various parts and bobs" for sale. Bingo. She walked in with a more confident sense of purpose.

When she walked back out, she was glowing with pride. Her purchases had already been teleported to the coordinates she'd given the gruff Hath merchant. All she had to do was skip on back to her ship and install them,

Which proved to be very frustrating. No wonder The Doctor always spent so much time tinkering with the console. His TARDIS was much older, which made her cantankerous sometimes. In contrast, Rose's ship was still a child, temperamental and fussy. It seemed age didn't change the heart of a TARDIS all that much, even if Rose hadn't looked into the heart of hers. Still, they had a bond, and with a little sniping and playful jabs between the two, Rose was able to get things working properly again. It had to have taken a few days, but time didn't work the same onboard.

Wiping some unidentifiable grease from her cheek, Rose stood up, victorious. "Oi, that should do it!" She whooped with joy. "Now let's see how you run." And as the ship hummed in delight, Rose flipped a switch on the console, and it came to life. The part which detected dangers at causal nexuses, or the thing-which-pings, immediately started to beep and ping, and generally make a racket. Rose beamed. "Sounds like I've got to go back to work, yeah?" She asked no one in particular. Swinging the monitor of the engine around. "Let's see who needs our help" she said. The screen lit up, scanning through a few pictures before bringing up information on a small planet, mostly touristy. A windowed picture of a beach with fine white sand popped up in the corner. 'Florana' Rose read.

"Of course," She whined, distractedly pushing a few buttons to bring them there. "I hate the beach." But she said it with a small smile on her face, too excited for another adventure.

\--  


Amaryllis' Grand aunt smiled at her sleeping grand niece. The girl was so tuckered out from helping with putting the decorations up during the day, she'd barely kept awake for half of her story that night. With great effort, the woman got up and secured the blankets around the girl before leaving the room.  
Truth be told, she felt a little ill herself. Maybe there wouldn't be a story the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know what the heck Ismelda is talking about? Because I don't right now, but it could mean something later. Let me know what you think about Rose creating the bookshop and bringing in some familiar names. Or what you think about her going off to do some adventuring and Doctor-ing on her own.  
> We're playing with the theory of Rose / Tentoo having been given the TARDIS coral in Pete's World from the deleted scene. What happened between then and now, well. Quick, subject change!
> 
> Reality check-in: First, this needs editing. Obviously. Second, I'm hoping to come out with one more chapter this month at least, before I go in for surgery on the 30th.
> 
> Until next time!


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Interlude", meaning "an intervening period of time" such as a time where nothing of great action occurs.  
> "Interlude" being used here as a chapter which may further backstory, but may not further the plot.  
> It is also a good indicator that the author has recently watched the sequel to a very grim yet popular Netflix adaptation of a beloved children's book series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did entertain the idea of abandoning this work. For a time. I've had to leave my job (it's okay, the boss was a total leech anyway. Wanted me to join his legion of the undead) and now I'm recovering from surgery. Maybe writing the gang at WT's will give me some peace. Probably not.

"So you're a student, and Zoe was an accountant," John said. So far he hadn't spit out the gingerbread tea Ace had gotten him to try. He had seemed more put out by the fact she had no jammie dodgers for him to eat with the tea than by the tea itself. Indeed, it was no Lapsang souchong, but as most will note, Gingerbread Vanilla is very sweet. Sweet as the mere 2-8 sugars John had been known to slip into his tea besides. So he kept himself content in his chair and sipped from his cup, bushy eyebrows raised at Ace where she sat across from him.

Ace nodded dismissively. "'s bout the size of it." She agreed. Noting the way the sunbeams in the room had shifted with the afternoon. The lights around the room twinkled in and out, giving the air a lazy feel.

"Did either of you ever do any... traveling?" John asked. As he considered the notes of ginger, cinnamon, and vanilla in his drink, he also found himself craving icing.  
  
Ace continued to look away, not entirely invested in their small talk. "No, not really" She stated.  
  
John cocked his head to the side. "Then what drew you to a place called Wayward Traveler's?" Because none of it made sense, really. Oh, the Ace he knew was a normal 1980's girl, disrupted by a time storm. But she preferred more flammable applications of science than drink creation (although a science in its own). It was worth noting, he assured himself. That while they certainly seemed similar, there was no way he was talking to the real Ace McShane. Right?  
  
"Well..." Ace said. "Zoe and I used to have dreams, about traveling. Traveling the stars with a strange man. Odd dreams, really."  
  
John nodded along, not nearly listening before what she said drew him back, and he startled like a frightened cat, inhaling a sip of tea. John coughed covertly behind his cup.  
  
"The same dreams?" He spluttered.  
  
"Are you okay?" Ace asked, quizzically, but shrugged off her concern when he dismissively waved a hand at her. Still catching his breath. "No," Ace said. "We both went different places in our dreams. With different men." She waited until John had recovered. "Do you want to know a secret?" She asked, with a merry glint in her eyes.  
  
John shifted in his chair, fiddling with the cup he held in his lap before lowering it back onto the table. "Uh huh." He agreed, eagerly.  
  
The both leaned in, and Ace opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. She searched John's eyes. "I think," Ace lowered her voice, "the different men we traveled with? They were really the same bloke."

John's eyes widened comically.

"Well, I don't really know why I think that," Ace admitted when John didn't have a clever reply. "Just feels like it. Who knows, maybe they were more than dreams?"

She got up slowly, once again picking up the cups from the table.

John glanced at the window, and muttered "you might be surprised."

"What was that?" Ace called over her shoulder, just beginning to climb the staircase.

"I asked, what time is it?" John lied. There was a round clock on the wall at the top of the stairs.

Ace squinted at it as she kept climbing. Once out of sight, she called down, "Half past 4! We close at 5. You staying?"

Was John staying? He had to go move the TARDIS to the alley behind WT's. Run some scans. Wait to talk to the others again in the morning. He sighed. "No!" John yelled up. "I'm just out, but I'll be back tomorrow!"

Ace's head popped back into view as she bounced back down the staircase a few steps. "You better!" She said. "You've got to try my Sugar Cookie tea next."

"Oh Rassilon no." John smiled and grumbled in faux irritation for her benefit.

Ace just laughed at him, waving as she disappeared again. "I'll see you after school, old man."  
  
\--  
  
Outside, the temperature had dropped to be a slight more tolerable, and John felt warmed from the tea. A little less lonely, a little less aching. Just, a whole lot more confused. Angry. Simmering, an anger he could continue to hold off on for a while, but it was there all the same. John wasn't paying attention when he collided with the shorter blonde man who was on his way into WT's.  
  
"Oh you are _kidding_ me," John vented, stepping back. If possible, the other man was even angrier, but they both kept it in check.

"I'm sorry mate," The blonde man grunted. Brushing himself off.

John did another double take and scrubbed a hand across his face. "Ethan?" He exclaimed.

"It's Elton," Elton corrected, unamused. "Do I know...?" He trailed off, squinting his eyes at John.

"I, uh," John stammered.

All of a sudden, Elton pointed at John and took a quick step back. "You're not, are you?" He whispered harshly. "The Doctor?"

"John!" John exclaimed. "I'm John. John Smith. But Elton Pope, isn't it? What are you _doing_ here?"

Elton looked John up and down, and then grabbed his arm roughly and began dragging him next door, to the shop labeled 'Confection Connections'.

"Hey, let go of me!" John protested, looking more and more like a disgruntled cat until he finally threw off Elton's hand just as Elton let go. They stood in front of the bakery, in the shadows of the awning.

Elton crossed his arms and glared. It was his job to protect WT's and Rose, dang it! And now he'd failed. Who knew what The Doctor had already learned and messed up from being in there? "What am I doing here?" He growled back. "I always help Zoe close up after I close CC's at 4! What are _you_ doing here? Did you see-"

"I don't know!" John spat. Throwing his hands up. "I don't know what I saw!"

Elton backed down, processing and deciding it couldn't be that bad. He needed not to jump to conclusions. Elton always knew there was a chance John would come back, and he held no real resentment towards the man. He did bring Ursula back, in a way. Still, Elton had grown protective of the others, and especially of Rose, after losing LINDA. The truth was, he wasn't quite sure John _would_ come back.

"Well, there's no easy explanation. If that's what you're looking for," Elton supplied. Unhelpfully.

John glared. "Thank. You. Sherlock." Then he hesitated. "You're not like them, are you?" John asked.

"Yes, well no. Not the way you mean," Elton stammered. "But it's complicated. If you'd like to have some tea we can talk inside?"

"Oh gracious," John whined. "More tea. No, thanks," Desperately John looked past Elton, back towards where he and Ace had come from. Where he'd left the TARDIS, in the park. "Listen, I've had a very eventful day, even by my standards, and more tea than even I can comfortably metabolize, and I feel as though I've just been on a battlefield." Which, he had. John sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "If we could do this tomorrow? I'll bring jelly babies."

Elton was skeptical. "Mind you don't take a detour and forget about us, alright." He hedged.

"Ha." John laughed halfheartedly. Then he stuck his hands in his pockets and took off past Elton, trudging down the road.  
  
\--  
  
"Is Auntie going to get better?" Amaryllis asked her father, David, as he sat beside her on the couch. The little girl had been feeling much better that day, but was confused when her grand aunt hadn't risen for breakfast, or lunch. The hours ticked by and she could hear the old woman coughing from her room in the back of the house. Eventually her father couldn't stall her any longer, and had come into the living room to tell her more of the story himself. Amaryllis only briefly questioned how he knew it. After all, didn't everyone know grand aunt's stories?

Now David did his best to comfort his girl, rubbing her back and squeezing her to his side. "She'll be alright, flower. Aunt Aster is just a little ill. She'll be better when her parents come in for the celebration. You're excited to see your great-grandma and pa, too, right?" David smiled as Amaryllis squealed. She only coughed a little, after.

Amaryllis shifted, laying back down on her big pillow at the end of the couch with her small legs propped up on her father's lap. "And grandpa Chris is coming too, right?" David nodded. "And Jack?" Amaryllis added slyly.

David made a face. "Yeah, can't keep him away." He grumbled, before twisting and tickling his daughter. "He's just so fond of you and your mother!" Amaryllis squealed again, but her dad stopped when she started coughing again.

"Mum'll be home soon, right dad?" She asked.

"Yes," David answered fondly. "She'll be home soon. Just as you'll be well soon, and then this house will be filled for Weihnachten."

Amaryllis snuggled into the couch more as her father got up, tucking her blankets under her sides and laying a kiss on her forehead. "I'll rest and get better, then." She said. "Tell auntie she has to tell me what happens next tomorrow." She yawned.

David chuckled, moving to pull the curtains closed over the big window. It was a quiet end to another day of relative rest.  
  
\--  
  
When Elton walked into WT's to help them close, he noted that the usual gang was all there, save for Rose. He let out the breath he'd been holding since running into The Doctor on the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, auntie finally has a name! Not that anyone cared. Aster is another flower name, but it's also kind of Greek for "star" and at least one of her parents probably hated it. So yes, I've shifted the pronoun game from Amaryllis' grand aunt onto her great grandparents. Believe me, I have a relationship chart I keep having to look at so no I don't expect anyone to follow along.  
> Anyone like that Amaryllis' father's name is David and her grandpa's name is Chris (short for Christopher) in there?  
> Her mother's name is also Hannah, but it hasn't come up yet. All relations are on Hannah's side of the family.
> 
> I have a tiny family of me and my mom, since everyone died when I was a teenager (chapter five unlocks my tragic backstory apparently) so anyway I don't know how to write about families all that well. But it's my escapist world of fiction so I'm giving my favorite characters a legacy and a huge family.
> 
> Aside that, I hope the chapter itself was... manageable. It's about 1.6k, so a good 400 words short of my goal. May fix that if I edit it. For now I just needed to get something out. Please please please comment.
> 
> I could probably have had 12 and Elton actually talk in this chapter but you know what I'm recovering from surgery and 12 is processing a lot right now so we're just gonna go home. Okay? Okay.  
> Some of my favorite dialogue is pre written and it is between 12 and Elton, but it's just not time yet. Rose has to come back first, for one.
> 
> Let me know if there's anything you want to see or for me to slip into the story. Until next time!


	6. The One After Inexplicable Time Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any good excuses for posting this late. The Doctor has more questions. Amaryllis is better, but her grand aunt is sick. Rose and I are both overwhelmed. Happy Holidays!

It was snowing, again. Outside the house which held Amaryllis and her father, and grand aunt Aster. It was snowing in gentle drifts. Like soap bubbles in Disneyland, alive with the magic of the season.  
Or, for those not into magic and holidays, it was a sense of peaceful comfort. White snow reflecting light and making everything outside brighter, muffling sound to make the world softer.

Amaryllis woke relatively early, for the first time since becoming ill. She was unfortunately always ill, and ever would be. Incurable, chronic. Sometimes she was susceptible to bouts of worsening health. Still, she fought, and laughed, and played like a normal girl, when she was feeling better. With Weihnachten just around the corner, it seemed this particular fall in health was at an end, with perfect timing.

The same couldn't be said for aunt Aster. So it was thoughtful of her, the child thought. As she snuck into the kitchen while her father read the newspaper. Glancing around so as not to be caught as she nicked some bread from the breadbox on the counter, and some cheese from the icebox. Eyeing some gingerbread on the table with a greedy eye.  
When she tip-toed out of the kitchen and creaked her grand aunt's bedroom door open, Aster was barely awake.

"Good morning, Auntie!" The child said sheepishly, "I brought you breakfast!" She placed her offerings on the nightstand.

Aster smiled wanly, looking over the meal. "Is it free?" She asked, in mock suspicion. Knowing what the child was really after.

"If you tell me a story!" Amaryllis declared, face eager.

Her grand aunt huffed a laugh. "Alright then, since I'm awake." She patted the side of the bed and made a bit of room for the child. "Please sit down."

And so,  
"John paced inside the TARDIS, which he'd moved into the alley behind WT's" Aster began, after she grabbed some of the bread, and began to nibble on it.

Amaryllis held her hand up and used her grand aunt's pause as an opening. "What's a TARDIS?" She asked.

At a loss for words, Aster thought for a moment, and swallowed. Amaryllis hadn't been awake enough when she had talked about Rose and the notion of time and space travel before. It had danced right over the girl's head. So she said a few words that would make her own parents properly indignant.  
"It's sort of like a mobile home," She explained. A twinkle in her eye.

\--

John had run scans on the bookshop. He'd run scans on the people inside. Real to the touch, brick and mortar building. Real, living human beings.  
He was stumped. The worst part of it was, it seemed only Elton The Daft knew anything about what was going on. John was also sure the owner of CC's was hiding something more.  
Well, John figured, it couldn't hurt to jump forward to tea time. He didn't need sleep the way the assumed humans needed it, after all. What he needed was more intel. More answers. More sugary tea from Ace and uncomfortable words with Elton.

So it was that he walked out of the doors of the blue police box, and found himself marching determinedly towards the quaint front door of The Wayward Traveler's.

Zoe was right there at the front desk, and she startled and then smiled warmly as John came in. Jaime was stringing up a few extra lights on the bookshelves, and some customers perused the shelves. One woman sat in a chair with a cup of tea and a copy of Mansfield Park.

John took a short glance around, and then headed straight up to the the second floor.

-

The second floor was a small landing, neatly tucked in as a small coffee shop setting. A lavender couch, two deep blue chairs, a glass coffee table. Behind the bar were three blackboards, covered in chalk scrawl with types of teas and coffees. Then there was Ace, who had miraculously not skipped school and in fact was right-on-time. It was 3pm.

"You're late," She snarked, not looking up from steaming some milk for a latte order. John hadn't noticed the woman waiting off to the side. Her blonde hair up in a bun.

It was Joan Redfern, John noted, surprised, but refocused on Ace.

"I'll have you know I'm precisely on the dot, thank you," he snarked back. "And there's no so-called Sugar Cookie tea to be seen."

John would have crossed his arms and taken his win, but Ace just smiled, turned away, and then placed a mug on the counter with a look of self satisfaction. The tea sloshed a little with the force, still steaming.

"Well, I.." John stammered. Touche. So he took the mug and went to sit down on the couch. He took the moment to size up Joan. She, like Ace and Zoe and Jaime, wouldn't know him. And like them, shouldn't be here, in this time. He discreetly reached into his pocket and soniced her, but again, no odd results.

The tea, he noted, was extremely sweet, somehow buttery. It was alright, and he definitely didn't get up to add any sugar to it.

He was about half-way through draining the liquid sucrose when Ace came over to sit with him. When she sat down next to him, he looked up. Joan was gone.

"Who was that?" He asked Ace, considering again the middle name 'subtle'.

Ace snorted, crossing her arms and leaning back. "Well hello, how was school, Ace? Did you blow up the art room this time? No, Professor, only nearly, and how is the tea?"

John raised his eyebrow at Ace and set his cup down. "Noted," he acknowledged wryly. Ace nodded in acceptance. 

"That was Joan." She pointed her chin towards the stairs, where Joan had inevitably gone by. "She runs the Bargain Bookcase. Likes to come in for a hot drink and a travel guide." The blonde shrugged.

John felt a hint of guilt. In another lifetime, as another man, he might have taken Joan to travel. He might have done many things as another man. Without the burden of his memories... "Ow!" He complained loudly, then, rubbing his shoulder.

Ace brushed her hand off on her skirt. "Oi, earth to the Professor," she said.

John just sighed, and took another sip of tea. "It's almost too sweet," he admitted after a moment. "Could use some spice, like the gingerbread."

Maybe cinnamon, or cardamom. Maybe, even, some lime. He didn't really come to WT's for tea, though, and Ace knew that. He was itching for something. She got that, the itch. For her it was more an itch for destruction, adventure, blowing things up. For Jaime it might be open worlds to explore, even if just in a book. For Zoe it might be numbers. For their boss, an itch for love, adventure, comedy, and romance.

"I'll keep that in mind," Ace said. "But now I'll tell you what you really came to hear."

"What?" John said, mock surprised. Ace just rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh don't be daft, I know you're not interested in my teas. Although next is a spiced apple cider tea, you might like that..." She trailed off. "Let's get right to it. The boss found us. Me and Zoe and Jaime, and offered us a job here. We were all lost, in our own ways...."

So the story went like this. Ace was studying, going to school. She had a troubled childhood, a rocky adolescence. Then one day, as Ace walked from the school-grounds, through the park, someone had stopped her. A blonde woman, in leather and flowing linen, with eyes tinged in glowing amber. The woman had smiled at Ace, and offered her an opportunity. An after-school job, a homebase to go to when times were rough. A place to be at peace. The woman had understood Ace in a way the girl wasn't used to. And though that woman, her boss, was frequently gone, Ace found companionship and family in Zoe.  
Zoe was from out of town. Though she wouldn't say from where. She knew the names of stars and planets better than street names around town. The boss had found her, stuck in a routine, and wanting for something more. Something Zoe could get out of WT's, and out of her fast-found friendship with Jaime.  
Jaime, who the boss had found in Scotland. Wanting to be brave and to help where needed, Jaime fit in well at WT's. Helping customers and looking out for Zoe and Ace.

There wasn't too much to it, other than that. John listened amicably to Ace's story, but his questions just kept growing. Who was their mysterious boss? Why did she pick these three individuals? Where was she?

It was 4:15 when Ace's story ended. She'd had to get up to serve a couple customers during that time, and now sent another mildly apologetic look towards John.

"I have to go start cleaning up," she said.

John waved her off, lost in his thoughts. As she got up and went back behind the counter. He almost missed the blond man walk up to him.

-

"Doc- er, John." Elton addressed him, somewhat harshly.

There was a heavy pause as they both looked at each other. Then, after much deliberation, Elton collapsed in one of the blue arm chairs. "Alright, ask" he said.

"What are they?" John blurted out.

Elton sighed. "They're who they appear to be."

But John had further questions, like, who is their boss? How are they here, really? And, why doesn't at least Ace know me, if they are who they say they are? But what he settled on was, "Are they human?"

Elton couldn't answer right away. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked at the ceiling. John waited. He could wait for an eternity, if needed. But then Elton spoke.

"No." It was both alarming and a comfort to John. Then Elton continued, "they're not.. human, but they might as well be!" The younger man was getting angry. "They're innocent, and they have real feelings, and their memories of who they were - are - are real!" He growled.

"But it's not," John countered, darkly. He nearly whispered so as not to be overheard. "It's not Ace, who traveled with me and created a charity. She's long dead."

Elton just nodded in agreement. "It's not, but it is Ace. It's Ace who's troubled, Ace who has her whole life to live."

John ignored him. "It's not Zoe, who fought the cybermen and ice warriors with me, Zoe who forgot me."

"No," Elton agreed again, "But it's still Zoe, who aches for adventure, who wants to learn about the world." And before John could get to Jaime, Elton continued. "It's Jaime, too. Everything he was before he met you. Everything he was after he forgot you. It's also Joan, romantic and strict and warm, who sells books next door. It's also me, and I remember you. I remember you from when my mother died, and LINDA, and you with Rose Ty-"

"Don't say her name." John snapped.

They both took a moment to cool down. John's mind was racing. He was mad Elton would bring up that name. He was mad he wasn't getting straight answers out of the boy. He needed space. He needed to think. So, without another word, he got up, and walked away. Though Zoe would say he stormed out, by the way she watched him stalk out of the store.

John didn't take a breath until he was safe inside the TARDIS. Then, only then, he ran his hand across his face, and shed a single tear of frustration and grief.

\--

On a beach in Florana, stood one Rose Tyler. She was a little disheveled, having just solved a feud between two rival species who had chosen the peaceful planet as their battlegrounds. She looked up at the stars above her, and inhaled. It was gorgeous out. She wanted to turn to a companion, and tell them how beautiful it was. How wonderful the flowers up in the meadow smelled. She wanted to relax into the arms of someone she loved. Unfortunately, she realized, she was alone. Slipping her mobile out of her pocket, Rose checked for any new messages. One text from Ace, saying how rude customers were. Two from Jaime about some exciting new historical fantasy books, and another from Zoe about their sales for the day. Rose smiled at that one. She was happy they were all doing well. She just wanted to know about one other person of interest....  
Just then, another text came in. This time, from Elton Pope.

"He's asking." It said. Rose frowned. Of course. She didn't know what to tell Elton to say. So she just sat in the soft sand, and listened to the waves, and waited for her young TARDIS to call her. She'd be back in time for WT's Christmas, she figured. That was soon enough.... Maybe, if she really examined herself, she'd know she was scared.

\--

"It's time for dinner," Amaryllis' father, David, said. Peeking into Aster's room. Amaryllis groaned.

"But I want to know what happens next!" The child complained. In her defense, she really did want to know what happened next.

Aster smiled at the girl's pout, "after dinner, my brother and Jack will be here. You need to eat and be ready to help them settle in, alright?"

Amaryllis was practically bouncing in place. "Jack!" She cried. "And grandpa Chris!"

Two more additions to the house for the holiday. It was shaping up to be a very special Weihnachten for Amaryllis, indeed.

It was shaping up to be a very special Christmas in July for The Doctor, too. He just didn't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be edited when I have the will to do so. My only main concern was getting a chapter out for the holiday and hitting my 2k wordcount per chapter goal.. so....  
> Again, any ideas or advice are helpful and encouraged! Also I love 13 with all my heart so I may add another chapter to Hedge Roses or When We Orbit a Star, We Call it a Sun.
> 
> Next time, on Testimony of Love! Meet Jack and Grandpa Chris as they bicker and interject on Aster's story! The Doctor gets closer to knowing the truth... and Rose prepares to go home to WT's for the Holiday!
> 
> Love you guys. Happy Holidays!


End file.
